


Mint Julep

by kethni



Category: Veep
Genre: Gen, Male-Female Friendship, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 15:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4483868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leigh has an ulterior motive for inviting Kent around for dinner...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mint Julep

 

Even from the street, it was obviously a shared house. That wasn’t too surprising. All the junior staffers had to live somewhere, preferably somewhere that coming in at 3 am and leaving again at 7 am wouldn’t cause comment.

Kent regarded the buzzer. There were visible wires coming loose. He rapped on the door instead. Inside the house, someone yelled something incomprehensible. The reply was also yelled and also unintelligible.

Kent put his hands in his pockets. If she didn’t appear shortly then he’d call her cell. He had only been mildly surprised to receive her call. Surprised not to have been more surprised. The door was dragged open by a ridiculously diminutive young... man? He thought it was a man. Kent had never followed fashion and had no idea if having a curtain of hair across your face was indicative of a particular gender.

The person looked up, or tilted their hair any way.

‘Leigh! Pol Pot is here!’

Kent winced, not at the nickname but at the volume. He’d heard the sobriquet before although not recently. He wondered if the banshee had any idea that the Khmer Rouge wasn’t a new pop-up restaurant.

‘Shut the fuck up, Chad!’ someone screamed.

Something struck the doorkeeper. A beer can. He swore and shambled away, leaving the door wide open. After a moment, Kent stepped into the house and shut the door behind him.

Deja vu. He knew he’d never been in this particular hallway before, but he’d been in dozens like it. The carpet was from the seventies. The wallpaper was from the eighties. Someone’s bike was gently leaking oil where it had been wedged under a banister. A shelf had a series of pigeonholes for mail, with dozens of previous names scored through.

A door opened, scraping against the carpet. Leigh marched out amid a cloud of... steam? Smoke? Steam. ‘Mr Davison.’

She was wearing an apron that was emblazoned with ‘I rub my meat for two minutes.’

‘Not yours, I take it.’

She looked down as if she’d never seen it before. ‘No. It’s Jimmy’s. He thinks he’s funny.’ She frowned slightly. ‘You can hang up your jacket. Unless you’re cold. Are you cold? Our boiler is broken.’

He hung his jacket up on a hook between a battered piece of plastic masquerading as leather, and a scrap of denim that wouldn’t have covered his shoulder.

‘I’m cooking,’ Leigh said.

‘Ah.’

‘What’s that?’

Kent looked at the package he had neatly wrapped in paper. ‘I brought a bottle.’

‘Oh.’ She accepted it but didn’t unwrap it. ‘Do you want some of this?’

‘Whatever you’re having will be fine.’

‘Okay. I’ll make you a drink.’ She gestured vaguely back into the room. Kent nodded.

He wondered what was likely to comprise the house liquor. There’d be beer. That was always a given. Any wine would be better used as paint stripper. In his day, there had been cider and cheap vodka. Now what. Jägermeister and malt coolers maybe. The kitchen was a good size although there were ample signs of a recent and hasty cleaning. A line of mould on the floor around the trashcan suggested that overflowing trash had been allowed to fester on the linoleum for a while before being removed.

Leigh’s eyes widened as a pot rattled on the stovetop. ‘There’s beer and wine in the refrigerator,’ she said, putting the bottle on the worktop, and scooting over to the stove.

Kent bit his tongue as he opened the refrigerator. The seals were ripped and covered in furry black mould. At this rate, he was going to need a course of antibiotics by the end of the evening. He and Ashley had been far too sanitary to allow their house kitchen to reach such a state.

The wine was icy to the touch so he took out two beers instead. ‘Do you have glasses?’

‘In the cupboard to your left,’ she squeaked. 

He glanced over to the stove where Leigh was frantically dealing with an over-boiling pan. Well, there were plenty of decent take-out and delivery places if they needed to…

Huh. Kent pulled out the bag of weed, opened it, and took a little sniff.

‘That’s not mine!’ Leigh’s complexion, never ruddy, was pale as paper.

‘Good.’ Kent sealed up the bag. ‘This would be better in an airtight container in the refrigerator and the wine would be better somewhere dark and slightly warmer.’

Leigh blinked. ‘Oh.’

‘You’re aware that it’s now legal in Washington D.C. to both possess and use marijuana provided that you do so privately.’

‘I… did know that,’ she said. She fidgeted with the apron. ‘I thought you wouldn’t approve.’

Kent shrugged as he opened the bottles with the opener on his keychain. ‘You disapprove of my lack of disapproval.’

‘I didn’t say that.’ She took the glass of beer he offered. ‘Not approving isn’t the same as disapproving. It’s close. But it’s not the same.’

Kent nodded as he lent back against the worktop. ‘Incisive as ever.’

‘I think I’ve ruined the food.’ Her nose wrinkled slightly. ‘The symbols on the buttons have all rubbed off.’

‘I can’t cook although I have some… meagre ability to bake.’ Kent sipped his beer. ‘I have the number for a lovely little Italian delivery place, or Greek.’ He gestured vaguely with his hand. ‘Or would you prefer something a little more exotic?’

Leigh bit her lower lip. ‘I can’t afford –’

Kent looked away as he waved a hand dismissively. He hoped she wasn’t going to press the point.

‘Um. Those all sound good,’ she said. ‘Italian?’

Kent nodded and took out his cell. ‘What about your housemates?’

She shook her head. ‘They can get their own dinner.’

Kent dialled on a number on his cell and gave her his phone. ‘Order whatever you want.’ He stepped past her and examined the ruined food. It didn’t look like it could be rescued so he began scraping it out into the trash.

‘I’ve ordered.’ Leigh held out the phone. ‘You should order what you want.’

He tucked the phone into his shoulder as he rinsed off the plates in the sink. Leigh silently opened the cupboard and took out the detergent.

Kent gave his order and credit card details. ‘Half an hour,’ he said, tucking the phone away. He put the plug in the sink and turned on the hot water.

‘What’re you doing?’ Leigh asked.

‘Washing the dishes.’

She leant forward onto the worktop. ‘Why?’

Kent unbuttoned his sleeves and neatly folded them up to his elbow. ‘You cooked.’

‘But we couldn’t eat it.’

He turned off the water and added detergent. ‘That in no way diminishes the effort applied.’ He looked at her. ‘My mother would never forgive me if someone invited me for a home cooked meal and I failed to wash the dishes afterwards.’

‘Oh.’ She thought about it for a moment. ‘I’ll dry.’

***

Answering the door to collect the food and pay the delivery driver appeared to rattle the cages of Leigh’s most disreputable housemates. As the bags of food, rich with the smell of tomatoes and olive oil, were handed over, three barely dressed youths stumbled down the stairs, hooting and hollering.

‘This is embarrassing,’ Leigh said. ‘I’m embarrassed.’

Kent took over his shoulder at the half naked young men on the stairs. ‘Seen worse.’

‘When?’

‘Do you have a... yard or something?’

‘Yes. Nobody much goes out there.’

‘Let’s picnic.’

It was a small, cramped space but that had never bothered him. They put out a blanket and sat cross-legged to eat their food. Leigh gulped some beer.

‘My dad used to take my brothers camping; she said. ‘He said it wasn’t for girls.’

‘You do something with your mom instead?’

‘Girly weekend,’ she said gloomily.

‘Not that kind of girl?’ Kent tried not to smile.

‘Does it show?’

‘Your tone was a little... suggestive that might be the case.’

Leigh dissected her food. ‘If we had marshmallows we could toast them.’

Kent snorted. ‘If we had papers we could roll joints.’

Leigh’s eyes widened almost comically. ‘You wouldn’t.’

‘Why do the young always suppose they invented sex and drugs?’ Kent took a sip of his beer. ‘Although smoking anything is bad for your lungs. Edibles are better.’

‘So, I shouldn’t get the pot and the papers?’ She sounded disappointed.

Kent couldn’t imagine why she’d want to see someone his age get high. As a child, drunken adults had always seemed threatening.

‘Sure,’ he said, ‘go ahead.’

‘Okay, do want the bourbon that you brought?’

Kent nodded as he carried on eating.

Leigh scrambled away. She moved like a younger girl. Like an adolescent giraffe or growing kitten, all gangly limbs and stumbling excitement. His mom had home movies of him as a teenager; his features were blurred and his gait resembling nothing more than a marionette. He’d been young once but he’d never felt it. He always had too many responsibilities to think about anything but the next task on his list.

Leigh looked attentive and alert when she came back. She handed over the pot and papers with the air of a faithful assistant.

‘What’re you drinking?’ Kent asked.

‘Mint water. I get dehydrated so I have to have a glass of water in between beers,’ Leigh said.

Kent put the bourbon to one aside. ‘If you don’t mind I’ll wait until I’ve eaten.’

‘Okay.’ Leigh sipped her water. ‘I don’t know how to make edibles,’ she said.

‘Next time you buy look for the books. Lots of choice.’ He glanced at her. ‘I’m assuming that you buy legally and you should probably not correct me if that assumption is erroneous.’

‘I buy legally!’

She watched him rolling. It wasn’t anything special. He didn’t think it deserved the attention.

‘Did you go camping?’ she asked. ‘With your dad?’ She knew it was cheeky, the knowledge was written on her face.

‘No.’

‘Oh. Sailing?’

He smiled a little at that. ‘No, I never knew him.’ Kent shrugged. ‘He left before I was born.’

Leigh’s brows drew together for a moment. ‘You’re better off.’

Kent blinked at her. He’d seen a variety of responses but that was new. ‘I am?’

‘Yes. He abandoned your mom when she was pregnant. He’d be a terrible parent.’

‘Ah,’ Kent said. ‘I forgot that you are young and therefore know everything.’

Her cheeks flushed slightly and she lowered her gaze as she accept the joint he held out. ‘You’re making fun of me.’

‘I won’t do it again.’

‘No. It’s okay. I probably deserve it. My mom says I can be a little self-righteous.’

Kent lit his joint. It was neatly wrapped, as neatly as poor quality paper and lack of practice would allow. ‘A little harsh but I see where you come by your admirable clarity.’

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘What I said about your dad.’

‘You’re doubtless correct.’ Kent closed his eyes as he drew in the smoke. ‘I went hiking when I was kid. Threw cherry bombs into creeks. Climbed trees.’ He took a sip of beer. ‘Had a paper route. Usual stuff. No girly weekends. Although I _can_ sew, make and mend.’

Leigh untied her hair. ‘I can’t imagine you climbing trees and throwing cherry bombs.’

‘The myth of a constant character.’ Kent watched the lit end of the joint slide through the air as he gestured. ‘Our personalities are in a constant state of flux. We’re altered by hormones, by the people around us, by events... by the simple maturation or devolution of our developed selves. But because the bundle of emotions and impulses that we call a “self” also has a memory of past events, we insist that the person we are at the end of our lives is the same as at the beginning.’

Leigh shuddered. ‘My grandfather’s axe.’

‘What?’

‘It’s in a book I read. This dwarf king says this is my grandfather’s axe. But the handle gets cracked so I replace it. Okay, still his axe. Then the blade gets damaged...’

‘Right, when’s it no longer his axe? Discworld?’

Leigh nodded. ‘You’ve read them?’

‘Sure.’

Leigh sat back, relaxing a little. ‘That’s scary. One day there might be so little “me” left I might as well be someone else.’

Kent nodded. ‘You look back and have no idea why you felt that way, said that thing, or made that decision.’

‘Do you keep a diary?’

He shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t call myself introspective. Although I wouldn’t call Sue introspective either and she keeps a diary religiously. They’re all neatly on shelves in her bedroom.’

‘Sue Wilson?’ she asked.

Kent narrowed his eyes. ‘Stop smirking.’

‘I never smirk.’ She giggled instead.

‘If you can’t hold your weed then you’ll have to stick to beer.’

‘She hated me a little bit,’ Leigh said.

He shook his head. ‘She’s like that with everyone.’

‘So, you’re together?’

‘Not right now.’

Leigh stretched at her legs. ‘Is that like... what’s that mean?’

Kent looked up at the sky. ‘It means that we no longer have a romantic relationship. But I still hold a tiny iota of hope.’

‘Why’d you break-up?’

She was pushing again, looking for the limits. It should have irritated him but he found he wasn’t averse to discussing it.

‘It didn’t work out.’ He let the smoke linger in his lungs for a long moment. ‘Some relationships end with a bang and some with a whimper.’

Leigh nodded sagely. ‘Working in the White House is stressful.’

‘I’m sure that was no aid,’ Kent admitted. ‘However I’ve had more stressful positions.’

‘Like what? Were you a wartime spy?’ She forced a very serious expression when he narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Cold war. Obviously. Did you go to Russia and wear a fur hat?’

‘You’re aware that you’re not improving the situation?’ he growled.

She had a fit of giggles. Kent shook his head sadly.

‘I can’t even intimidate junior staffers.’

‘You’re very intimidating,’ she promised.

Kent scowled at her. ‘Hmm.’

Leigh poked her empty plate. ‘All gone.’

‘Munchies,’ Kent said. ‘Terrible thing.’ He pushed the remains of his food over to her. ‘Have that.’

Leigh grabbed his plate. ‘Are you being polite?’

‘I’m never polite.’ Kent covered his mouth as a little air threatened to escape.

‘Good.’ Leigh quickly finished the rest of the food and piled up the plates in the centre of the blanket.

Kent poured a bourbon and offered it to her.

‘Oh. No. Too strong.’ Leigh lay down on the grass and looked up at the sky. Her skirt had ridden up, showing her pale thighs. ‘I’m a cheap date.’

Kent looked away. ‘Melissa speaks highly of you.’

‘She’s not what I expected,’ Leigh said. ‘You’re very precise. She’s not.’

‘There’s no rule that friends must be alike in temperament and manner,’ Kent said.

‘Does she know Miss Wilson?’

Her tone made him look across at her. She was smirking a little.

‘So young and so cynical,’ Kent said, shaking his head. ‘Melissa and I don’t have that sort of friendship.’

‘You think men and women can be friends.’

Kent glanced across and found she was looking at him. ‘Sure.’

‘But sex gets in the way,’ Leigh said. ‘It’s always there.’

‘Sexual attraction is a hothouse flower, it withers without regular tending.’ Kent tapped the ash from his joint. ‘Friendship is a hardy perennial.’

Leigh blew out a stream of smoke. ‘I like that.’

Kent wafted the smoke away from his eyes. ‘Should’ve baked something.’

‘I think I could burn water,’ Leigh said.

‘Scalds are wet.’ Kent sadly regarded his burnt out joint. ‘Admittedly, scalding water doesn’t have the same ring as burning water.’

Leigh squirmed, toeing off her shoes. ‘I’ve had enough,’ she said, handing the joint to Kent.

‘I admire your ability to identify your limit and say no more.’

She stretched languorously. ‘Stop while it still feels good.’

‘A sound philosophy.’ Kent finished his glass of bourbon and put the bottle aside. ‘Leigh?’

‘Yes Mr Davison?’ she said, very seriously.

‘You appear half asleep.’

She nodded. ‘I am.’

‘Before you lapse into the arms of Morpheus, we should discuss why I’m here.’

‘Oh. Yes.’ Leigh nodded. ‘I have an ulterior motive.’

‘Ah.’

‘You knew.’

Kent shrugged. ‘I suspected.’  

She moved a little closer. ‘Was I very obvious?’

Kent tapped ash from the joint. ‘I don’t believe this is a situation where opacity would be helpful. Don’t blame yourself. I was older than you when I had my first time.’

‘Did you regret it?’

He thought about it. He wasn’t sober enough for this conversation. She certainly wasn’t.

‘I wish I had given it more thought,’ he said. ‘Things were moving very quickly. I was rather swept along by events.’

Leigh chewed her lower lip. ‘I’ve given it thought.’

‘I wouldn’t want to pressure you.’ Kent shook his head. ‘If you do this, it can’t be reversed.’

‘I know that.’

‘And,’ Kent said, ‘you’re not exactly sober at the moment.’

Leigh sat up straighter. ‘I was sober when I asked you here. I was sober when I decided to do that. I want to do this.’

Kent raised his hands in surrender. ‘Then I’m not going to stop you.’

Leigh cleared her throat. ‘Okay. Should I just…?’

‘Sure.’

She took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. ‘There’s going to be a congressional inquiry. Into Families First.’

Kent help up his finger. ‘The Meyer Bill.’

Leigh nodded. ‘It wasn’t called that when I was there.’

‘True enough.’

She brought up her knees and rested her chin on them. ‘I have to give a statement. They want to ask me questions.’

Kent’s frowned but spoke carefully. ‘Why would they be asking you?’

She played with a lock of her hair. ‘I shouldn’t tell you.’

‘You probably shouldn’t,’ he agreed. ‘But wasn’t that the whole point of asking me here?’

‘I’m pretending it wasn’t,’ Leigh said.

‘Apologies.’

Leigh chewed her lip. ‘I haven’t done this kind of thing before.’

‘By this kind of thing you mean… tipping me off about the investigation?’

Leigh nodded. ‘Am I doing it wrong?’

Kent shrugged. ‘Well, it has the advantage of originality.’

‘Oh.’ She flexed her toes.

‘It’s not too late to change your mind,’ Kent said gently.

Leigh shook her head. ‘I made my decision. I stick with it.’ She looked at him. ‘They asked me questions about the data breach.’

Kent took a deep draw on the joint, held the smoke in his lungs, and released it slowly. ‘The data breach,’ he said.

Leigh chewed her lower lip. Watching him intently. ‘They asked if I was a scapegoat.’

He nodded. ‘And you confirmed the truth of it.’

‘I’m a good person. I wouldn’t breach data.’ Leigh tapped her feet together. ‘It’s not my fault everyone knows about HIV girl.’

Kent held up his hands. ‘You want the opportunity to reclaim your reputation.’

‘Are you angry?’ Leigh asked.

‘No.’

She tilted her head. ‘Disappointed?’

Kent shook his head. ‘You’ve never disappointed me, Leigh.’

Pink spots touched her cheeks but she didn’t look away. ‘They asked me who was responsible.’

‘For the breach?’

A nod.

‘What did you say?’

She licked her lips. ‘I said I didn’t want to answer any more questions.’

Kent nodded. ‘They’ll come back.’

‘I don’t want to be the scapegoat again.’

‘I won’t let that happen,’ he promised.

Leigh’s eyes scanned his face slowly. ‘They’re going to call me at the inquiry.’

Kent stubbed out the joint. ‘You’re nervous.’

She took a deep, slow breath. ‘Have I been helpful?’

Kent smiled slightly. ‘You don’t need to _earn_ my assistance.’

Leigh looked down at her hands. ‘I pay my way.’

‘There are people I need to talk to,’ he said carefully. ‘This is… This needs careful thought.’

‘I understand.’

Kent interlaced his fingers. ‘You and I understand the sequence of events here but I need an acceptable narrative to relate to others.’

Leigh pursed her lips. ‘I need to ask for something.’

‘Precisely.’

Leigh tilted her head. ‘I want to come back to the White House.’

Kent nodded. ‘That’s understood.’

‘Not in six months or a year. Right after the inquiry is over.’

Kent picked up scrap of paper and rolled it between his fingers. ‘Despite everything that has happened?’

Leigh pushed her hair back. ‘I’ve been “blooded” but politics is no place for the fragile. I know that. I’m not fragile. I’m a strong person.’

‘Certainly.’ Kent clasped his hands together. ‘I presume that you would desire a more elevated and… secure position than previously.’

She pulled her foot into her lap and rubbed her sole with her thumb. ‘You can do that.’

Kent nodded slowly. ‘Would you consider working for me?’

‘After the inquiry.’

‘After the inquiry,’ he agreed.

Leigh nodded. ‘This isn’t blackmail.’

‘Never thought it for a moment,’ Kent said. He smiled slightly. ‘But you’re young, you’ll grow into it.’

 

The End

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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